why i love june weekends: in (mostly) photos

Eating every meal on the patio with my main man.

(We also had brussels sprouts.)

 Afternoons at the pool.

 Weeds in the woods.  Pretty ones.

 Drinking an extra cup of coffee so I can admire my gorgeous garden a bit longer and congratulate myself on my very green thumb.  And my humility.

 New Pandora stations, inspired by seeing Jersey Boys this weekend with my mom and sister.

And finally, finding a random car magnet on the street (aka STRIKING GOLD) and secretly sticking it on Matt's car.  And then waiting to see how long it would take him to discover it.

Spoiler alert: he discovered it when he took the trash out after dinner, less than three hours after I stuck it on there.  Because on his way out the door I told him it would be in his best interest to examine the back of his car.  So basically I cannot keep a secret.

things are a little fowl around here

About three weeks ago, I discovered that a bird had built a nest in the gutter between our condo and our neighbor's. A few days later a robin started to sit on the nest, and naturally I kept a very close eye on things and didn't even sweep that side of the patio or weed that end of the garden lest I disturb her.

The babies finally hatched last Saturday, and I've become borderline obsessed with the whole situation ever since.  I check on them every morning before I leave for work and immediately when I get home.  I sit outside at our picnic table and watch the mama bird fly in with worms and feed her cheeping babies.  I've done exhaustive research on baby robins.  I worry when it rains hard, or when the carpenter bee that's also taken up residence on our patio flies too close to them.  I've taken countless photos of the nest and yesterday I even took a three minute video of the babies.

Last night I HAD A DREAM about our baby birds learning to fly.  Even I know that's a bit unusual, and a sure sign that I need to REIGN IN THE CRAZY because I am officially losing it.

And then I was emailing back and forth with my dad this morning and he told me that he and my mom got four little tadpoles for their backyard pond this weekend. 

And my mom named them. 

Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young.

So evidently the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

I got home from work today and when I walked in, I saw Matt on the couch.  He looked awful.  He was sneezing and sniffling and his eyes were red and watery and swollen.

I asked him what was wrong and he said, "Well, my allergies are acting up.  I knew I shouldn't have followed that turkey."  

Hmm.  Now that's a statement that's going to require a bit of clarification.

Evidently when he pulled into our parking lot, he spotted a turkey.  So he got out of his car and sneakily followed the turkey into the woods because he wanted to see where it lived.

His search was unsuccessful, but he has big plans to hit the woods again, WITH A TURKEY CALL, to see if he can find the turkey homestead. 

Where do we sign up for a our birdwatcher's memberships?

i also used a weight machine backwards, but that's another story for another time

Well, Matt and I joined a gym last week.

That's noteworthy because I am not the least bit athletic and/or all that interested in fitness.  When I was a senior in college I had a knee issue that, according to my doctor, could be cured if I spent 40 minutes a day on a recumbent bike.  So I got myself a gym membership and rode that recumbent bike for the prescribed 40 minutes a day and not a second more.  And I didn't dare venture to the treadmill or the rowing machine or, heaven forbid, the stair stepper.  And then I graduated and that was the end of my gym experience.

Until last Wednesday, when Matt and I laced up our sneakers and joined Planet Fitness.  In the last seven days we have gone to the gym five times, which is more than I've gone in the last five years, so basically we have already gotten our money's worth.

On our first day we rode the bikes, but by day two I was drawn to the glamor and apparent grace of the elliptical machine.  So I climbed aboard, started elliptical-ing, and lasted four painful minutes until I determined that my sweet spot at the gym is probably on the treadmill, speed: 3.2, incline: 0.



After day two I was feeling fantastic and full of energy, so when we got home I decided to do a little apple cider vinegar hair treatment because it makes my hair so shiny and smooth and who doesn't want their hair to look healthy?  I wet my hair, soaked it in apple cider vinegar, and then folded some laundry and straightened up a little bit while the vinegar worked its magic.

I hopped back in the shower to rinse it out, and when I walked back out into the living room, Matt was just walking in the front door.

"Where'd you go?" I asked him.

"Something really smells weird in here and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it is - so I cleared the leftovers out of the fridge, and then took all of the trash out."

Well, mystery solved my friend.

I have half a bottle of apple cider vinegar on my head.

I AM THE CULPRIT.

Not only do I want my hair to look great while I stroll on the treadmill, but obviously I need the right wardrobe.  So this weekend I got some fancy new fitness-style yoga capris, and last night I hit the mall to got myself a new pair of sneakers.   I've read it takes 21 days for something to become a habit and while I'm only a third of the way there, I figure I may as well look adorable for the next 14 days while we see if this gym thing is going to be a long term commitment or a flash in the pan.

I wore my new workout gear to the gym tonight for the first time.  I walked faster and with so much more pep in my step.  And after the treadmill portion of the gym experience I pranced around from weight machine to weight machine in my fancy new shoes feeling like a million bucks.

And then we got into the car and I crossed my legs and I spotted this.

 I had forgotten to take the tags off of my new shoes.

Listen.  I keep myself humble.  And marginally embarrassed.

Although if this gym thing doesn't turn into a habit in the next two weeks, I could still return the sneakers.

Silver lining.

tired

Well, Matt and I have been married for two months today.  And in those two months of marriage we have purchased four new car tires which, let's be honest, is a pace we cannot keep up. 

On Tuesday I drove to a meeting about an hour and a half away.  The drive to the meeting was uneventful, but as I approached my highway exit on the way home, the low tire pressure light on my dashboard started flashing.

I guess I should have known something was amiss when I was singing along to the radio several miles earlier and it sounded like someone was pounding on my chest as I sang.  Here I thought I'd finally perfected my vibrato a la Carrie Underwood, but in reality it was a sign of a flat tire.  

Hindsight is 20/20.

I got off the exit and pulled right into the parking lot of an office complex.  I called Matt, and when he answered I said, "Hey, my low tire pressure light came on.  So I got off the turnpike and I'm now parked in a parking lot.  What do you think I should do?"

And he said, "Well, do you have a flat tire?"

"I don't know,"  I said.  "I didn't get out and look at the tires."

Note to self: When your low tire pressure light comes on, the first step is to get out of the car and actually look at your tires.

I performed a full four point inspection and while I didn't see an obvious flat, I heard what I thought was air hissing out of a small hole in the driver's side rear.  Matt wanted to come and change it but since he was an hour away and we pay for roadside assistance with our insurance, I called roadside.  And while I waited for the mechanic to arrive, I watched my tire flatten into a pancake.

And half an hour later an ancient, white, dented, beat up van that said "Home Improvement, Inc, NEW YORK" came pulling up to me and my little Ford Focus.  It was like the start of a horror movie, because 1-beat up white van, and 2-I was expecting a tow truck from Pennsylvania, not a home improvement truck from New York.  But the man in the van was very nice and had a tire jack with him so I guess he was legitimate.  He told me I had a nail in my tire, so he put my spare on and I headed slowly off to Pep Boys for a plug.

At Pep Boys, I told the man at the desk I wanted my tire plugged and handed over my keys.  And ten minutes later one of the mechanics came into the waiting room and said, "Hello miss, I looked at your car and I actually recommend four new tires.  The ones you have are six years old."

Little did he know that I am NO EASY SELL.

"First of all, the car is only five years old and these aren't the original tires.  Second of all, I'm not here to buy new tires today.  I don't understand how everything was going along fine and I hit one nail and suddenly all four tires are bad.  I'd like the tire plugged and that's it for today, thank you."

Well, Mr. Mechanic came back in a few minutes later and told me that due to the way the nail punctured the tire, a plug wouldn't hold.  Half of me thought he was telling the truth and half of me thought he was trying to make a few hundred bucks out of the deal, so I called Matt again and he told me to just go ahead and get the two new tires because MY SAFETY IS PARAMOUNT.

PRECIOUS CARGO.

And that's how I became the owner of a lovely set of Hancook tires for the moderate performance driver, because apparently the tire salesman and I have differing ideas of what constitutes a high performance driver.  

I naturally consider myself a very high performance driver because I have an almost perfect driving record and I use those turn signals like a boss.  The salesman considers a high performance driver someone who drives at speeds in excess of one hundred miles per hour on a regular basis in a car with sport handling.

Tomayto, tomahto.

And so instead of a fancy dinner date for our two monthiversary, we gazed out into the parking lot at all of our new tires, and had a music night where we played all of our favorite songs and made a giant batch of chocolate chip cookies.

And when I went to light the candle for dinner, I saw this written in the wax.

The best things in life are free.

april showers bring may flowers. and hopefully they don't drown them.

Last week was a rainy one around here.  On Wednesday, I came home to discover that we suddenly had waterfront property. 

Unfortunately our front door is right in the middle of that river.  Since I didn't have a raft with me, I stopped on higher ground for a minute while I weighed my options for getting myself to the front door while staying as dry as possible, and not ruining my clothes.  After some thought, I decided that my best bet would be to take off my (lovely, brand new, cream colored, very poor choice for a rainy day) shoes and roll up my pants legs because DESPERATE TIMES. 

I was about to do just that when I heard a voice yell, "DON'T WORRY, LADY, I'LL HELP YOU."  And I turned around to see Matt, my knight in soaking wet gym shorts and waterproof hunting boots, walking down the sidewalk.  He had already been outside playing in the rain trying to clear out some clogged drains, and he picked me up and carried me to the front door.


Luckily, the rain and flooding has subsided in the past few days and we haven't had to invest in either a wet vac or a boat.  However, I am worried to death about the status of the flowers that I planted last weekend.  I am worried that they got too wet during the storm and then too cold and that they're not hearty enough and maybe they'd be better off with a sheet over them at nighttime and SHOULD I GO OUTSIDE WITH A HAIR DRYER TO WARM THEM UP A BIT?

I am just so proud of my little garden. I know the saying is that pride cometh before a fall, but in this gardening story, the fall actually came first.

I decided that last Saturday was going to be planting day, and since I had a 40% off coupon to Michael's Arts & Crafts burning a hole in my pocket, I decided I'd have myself a perfect Saturday morning and stop there and and then go to the Home Depot right next door.

Not only does that particular shopping center have a Michael's and Home Depot, but it also has an Ikea and BJ's Wholesale Club, so that joint was jumping on Saturday morning.

Because I have a rocky relationship with reversing out of parking spaces on busy Saturdays, I drove around the parking lot until I found a pull through spot.  I grabbed a cart from the corral in the lot, and then headed straight for the racks of plants and flowers on the sidewalk outside the store.

I walked up and down a few short aisles, but was disappointed in the selection.  It was surprising because I got my flowers at Home Depot last year and there were so many more choices.  I picked up one pack of yellow marigolds and a set of gardening tools, but decided I'd drive over to Lowe's for the other things I needed. 

I headed inside to pay, and as I walked through the first set of doors, an older gentleman standing there said, "Good morning, miss.  BJ's card?"

"No thanks," I responded quickly, and, obviously, without thinking.

Because a half a second later, it hit me.

He wasn't trying to interest me in signing up for a BJ's card. 

I had actually been shopping at BJ's.

Not Home Depot.

And I am not a member of BJ's.

I abandoned that shopping cart quicker than you can say petunia and practically ran to my car.  Which is when I realized that in my quest to find an easy, pull through parking space, I had driven out of the Home Depot section of the lot and into the BJ's one.  And when I got out of my car I was so focused on the flowers that I didn't look up at the sign of the store I was heading towards.


After that experience, I really hope that my flowers pull through.  If they don't, one thing is certain.  I will be going to Lowe's to buy the replacements.

i wonder if i could get the benefits of AARP

I wake up at 6:45 every morning.  

Well, that's not completely true.  Matt leaves by 6:20, and when he leaves he kisses me and says "Bye, sugar snap/buttercup/pecan sandy/starlight," or any other of an assortment of names.  It's different one every day.  I always make sure I'm awake when he leaves so that I can hear the name of the morning because ADORABLE, but the second the front door closes, I go back to sleep.

I wake up 25 minutes later and rush around for the next 35 to 40 minutes.  I shower and do my hair and pick out my outfit and my jewelry and iron and pack my lunch.

This week I decided that a lot of those things could, and should, be done the night before.  So all week I've been packing my lunch, picking out my outfit and jewelry, and ironing at night.  And I've noticed that mornings are a lot less hectic and I have more time to spend on my makeup and my hair.  Which means that I've been wearing lip gloss and mascara and my hair is actually completely dry and styled when I leave for work each morning instead of slightly damp and pulled back in a clip.

And I'll be honest.  I've left each morning thinking about how much better I looked.  I even sent Matt a text on my way out the door on Monday telling him how lucky he is to be married to someone so good looking.

What can I say? I'm humble.

Today I had a jackpot outfit picked and some great hair going on.  I had to be in court for a hearing first thing for work, and our case was being heard in front a judge I hadn't met before.  After the hearing ended, he called me up to the bench to talk to him. 

"Good morning, Your Honor," I said very respectfully, trying to get on the judge's good side.

It was all for nothing though because he then he proceeded to tell me that I am the spitting image of Allyson Schwartz.

That name might not mean anything to you, but she is running for governor of our state.

And she is SIXTY FIVE YEARS OLD.

I about HIT. THE. FLOOR.

Maybe my new strategy isn't working as well as I thought.

Tomorrow it's back to damp hair and a last minute outfit because I can no longer spend the time at night ironing and preparing my clothes.  

I will be too busy applying anti-aging cream.

have a salad, but please don't wash your plate until the laundry is finished

I am sitting next to Matt on the couch, and he just looked over at me and said, very solemnly, "You know, if the corn crop goes under one of these years, we are going to be in deep trouble."

Well.  

Now that may not be an unusual statement to make if we were watching a show about corn, or if one or both of us is involved in the farming industry, but we're watching baseball and neither of our jobs have anything to do with agriculture.  And in my twenty five years on this earth, I've spent exactly zero minutes thinking about the corn crop and the potentially catastrophic events that could ensue if it ever goes south.

Evidently that only makes one of us.

Matt and I didn't live together until we got married less than two months ago, which means that we are learning new things about each other every day.  Exhibit A: Matt's feelings on the corn crop. 

I have also learned that living with Matt means that I will never have to worry about things like being unprepared when the power goes out (which happens a lot here) because he has a few flashlights placed strategically around the condo, and the really impressive thing is that there are batteries inside those flashlights, AND they actually WORK.

I am more the type of person to decide one day on a whim that I should have a flashlight for possible power outage purposes, go to the store and buy a very adorable one, assume that there are working batteries included, come home and place that adorable flashlight in an important, unforgettable hiding spot, and then completely forget where that unforgettable hiding spot is when the power actually does goes out.

Not Matt.  He is (thankfully) a man who is prepared.

He is also a man who cannot resist a grocery store sale and for that reason, we will never run out of condiments or granola bars, and we laugh in the face of low potassium levels.

 

I am not without my own quirks.  Just this weekend I spent a solid half hour explaining to Matt why I don't like to to conduct two water-centric events simultaneously.  For example, taking a shower while the dishwasher is running, or doing a load of laundry while someone is hand washing dishes.  And that is because, naturally, I don't want one appliance to get better water than the other.

Because that makes sense.

I think I've spent too much time thinking about it.  I should probably focus my thoughts on something that could have a more devastating impact.

Like a less than stellar corn crop.

Or running out of salad dressing.

it will bee a while before i can relax

Well, Matt and I have been married for six whole weeks now, so we decided it was high time that we add a pet to the mix.

And so, we got a little turtle.  This is a picture of him last night as he got acquainted with the apartment.

Oh, I kid.  I will never share a home with a member of the reptile family, which is something I made clear to Matt before the wedding day since he grew up with two lizards names Ozzie and Harriet, and a snake that "got loose" in his house and was NEVER FOUND.

History, lest ye not repeat yourself.

Last night I was changing from my work clothes into my leisure outfit, because a girl's gotta be comfy at all times, when Matt yelled from the dining room, "URGENT, URGENT.  I NEED A SHOE IMMEDIATELY."  I grabbed the closest shoe I could find, a very delicate ballet flat.  However, when I arrived in the dining room and saw the creature we were up against, I quickly surmised that my ballet flat was no match.

I switched the flat out for one of Matt's sneakers while Matt inspected the intruding creature a little more closely. 

It was a bee.

A killer bee.

Since Matt didn't want it to fly away when he came at it with his shoe, I grabbed a giant can of hairspray so that he could disable it before the sneak-er attack.  I provided Matt with the shoe and the hairspray and then I ran into the bathroom and locked the door because I think when we said those wedding vows six whole weeks ago there was a line in there about the husband killing the bugs.

Well, I heard Matt douse that bee with more hairspray than I wore to my junior prom, and then he stomped it, and vacuumed it up.

And it kept buzzing.

And buzzing.

And it was still alive when Matt took the vacuum canister out to the dumpster an hour later, with dust glued to its entire body, courtesy of the liberal hairspray application.

The downside to this whole episode is that now we have a quarter can of VO5 extra hold hairspray on our floor. 

The upside is that we still have a place to live, because if it had been up to me to deal with this situation alone, I would have packed my bags and moved out, naturally.

So now I'm just holding my breath that we don't have another intruder.

At this point, I think I'd prefer a pet lizard.

we have the "old" part mastered, when does "wise" come?

Late Sunday morning Matt and I made a trip to Lowe's so he could buy some lumber.  He had big plans to spend the afternoon making a picnic table and I have to admit, I admire someone with that kind of ambition for a Sunday afternoon.  My goals for the day included painting my nails and taking a nap.  

Well, we were standing in the middle of the lumber department when I felt my throat start to close.

I sat in the car while Matt loaded the lumber and wished away my swollen glands.  While Matt has big dreams of owning an F-350, he currently owns a smallish sedan that is very practical, but not made for hauling lumber.  So once he finally got everything loaded in, we had to drive home with the trunk open and a giant orange flag blowing in the wind and alerting other drivers to the contents of our trunk.  

It was very sleek.

We made it home safely, and I laid down on the couch where I spent the next eight hours falling in and out of sleep and hoping that my family writes a good obituary because surely, this was the end.

Meanwhile, Matt spent his afternoon on the patio and check out the results.

Now that is impressive.

Long story short, I went to the doctor on Monday and next year, I will be getting a flu shot.  Matt had a dentist appointment Monday night, and when he came home his mouth was so sore that he couldn't chew.  Combine that with my sore throat and inability to swallow, we were looking at a dinner consisting solely of liquids.

Also known as, suppertime at the nursing home.

At least we have a nice table where we can sit together to sip our broth.

business as usual

The weekend after Matt and I returned from our honeymoon, I was stricken with sickness in the form of a cough and congestion.  Initially I thought it was simply a cold, but when I was still feeling lousy two weeks later and waking up several times each night coughing, I suspected it was something more serious. 

Memories of happier times...

But did the persistent symptoms and sleepless nights cause me to call the doctor?  Of course not.  I didn't make that call until I had a coughing fit in Target that was so bad I had to leave.  Apparently I can put up with sleepless nights, but clearly being interrupted while shopping that is a situation that requires some sort of urgent remedy via a medical professional.

I left work early the very next afternoon to head to the doctor.  In the exam room I highlighted the coughing spells and made sure to add some extra drama, and even told the doctor that due to a neighbor's faulty home alarm system we were sleeping with two very loud fans in our bedroom, and my coughing still woke both me and Matt.

She asked me if I ever gasped for air during the coughing and while technically I hadn't, I hesitated with my answer just long enough to put some reasonable doubt in her mind.

The doctor checked me out and then diagnosed me with a sinus infection.  She wrote a prescription for the sinus infection but not the cough, so I asked her if she had an over the counter alternative she'd recommend. 

"Well," she said, "honey sure works great."

Doc, I haven't slept a solid night in two weeks between my neighbor's faulty alarm system and my moderate to severe cough.  I am looking for a prescription for Robitussin with codeine and authorization for a refill or five.

Apparently my cough wasn't bad enough to warrant a prescription, but I hightailed it to CVS to pick up my other prescription and a large bottle of honey - NATURE'S COUGH SUPPRESSANT.

In the interest of full disclosure, I also picked up two Reese's Easter eggs on my way to the pharmacy counter to get my medicine, which turned out to be in the form of a NASAL SPRAY.

DISGUSTING.

Matt called as I was walking to my car, and the timing of his call was perfect because I was able to share with him the wonderful news that his new bride would be self-administering a nasal spray every hours hours around the clock for the foreseeable future.

I've never been so attractive.

It turns out that I wasn't the only one having a bad day.  Matt was calling to see if I could "come save him at Acme," where he'd unfortunately found himself at the end of the checkout line with a basket full of food and no wallet. 

Last week was not our week.

I'm happy to report things are going much better this week.  

Although, there was really nowhere to go but up.

the first half of his name was right

My sister was in a school play called "Smile" this weekend.  My parents put an ad in the program from them, my brother Philip and his fiance Alex, and me and Matt.  

Except the program typist typed "Mary" instead of "Matt."

Welcome to the family.

i really do love where we're living

Matt and I are currently renting a condo while we save for a house and get adjusted to the whole BEING MARRIED thing.  The condo is on the small side but it's nice, and we can look out our windows and see beautiful, old, tall trees and a lake, and every night we walk six minutes to the woods where we hike on a trail along the creek and that is what I imagine heaven is like.  However, it turns out that the actual CONDO LIVING thing is requiring far more of an adjustment than we anticipated.

One thing we are learning is that the electricity goes out here on a regular basis.  And by regular, I mean a few times a week around 10:30 or 11 at night.  It's never off for too long, but always long enough to reset the clocks on the microwave and oven.  It went off this past Monday, and when everything kicked back on and reset, so did our neighbor's home alarm system.  Evidently those neighbors were on vacation because the alarm went off at any time that ended in 3 or 8 straight through until yesterday.

The alarm wasn't a problem when we were home during the evening, because we were busy and talking and hardly noticed it.  However, it was so loud when we were trying to fall asleep that Matt wanted to call the police the other night.  After some discussion we decided that a call to local law enforcement was too drastic a measure, so we resorted to sleeping with two fans on full blast all night to drown out the alarm system. 

The alarm situation came to a glorious end last night.  Matt went to bed early because HELLO, PEACEFUL, UNINTERRUPTED SLEEP, but I stayed up to watch some Fox News and paint my nails a lovely shade of Lacey Lilac.  And that's when the channel on the tv changed from Fox News to The Big Bang Theory. 

With the remote control on the coffee table. 

I picked the remote up, and changed it back to my show. 

And then the tv changed back to The Big Bang Theory.

And what ensued what a television battle with an unidentified neighbor who was intent on watching some Big Bang Theory.

Evidently someone in our complex has a remote control that controls our television.  And we control theirs.

Which is terribly convenient.

Here's the thing.  In order to make a cell phone call from our condo, you practically have to wait until the third Tuesday of the month and then hang your head out the window and stand on one foot and turn around three times while crossing your fingers. 

We have TERRIBLE cell phone service due to what is apparently a roof and walls made of concrete.  Yet our tv remote control powers right through that concrete and puts a major kink in the Wednesday evening television plans.

The silver lining is that these tv channel battles won't go on forever. 

Sooner or later the electricity is bound to go off. 

honeymooners